


Shoot

by irisqod



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Frottage, Getting off at a crime scene, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisqod/pseuds/irisqod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wanted to try something...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoot

“Sherlock. Stop moving.” John was on his back on the floor and Sherlock was sitting astride his lap.

Wiggling.

Not in a sexual way, just reenacting a crime scene. The team from the Met had cleared the scene, so John and Sherlock were alone.

“Ms. Wheeler gets Mr. Jennings on his back,” wiggle, “naked and aroused,” squirm, “and wraps her fingers around his.” Wiggle, “throat and…”

“Really. Sherlock, stop moving!” John was hard as stone, and Sherlock seemed to be oblivious of the fact. All the friction was driving him mad. “Please.”

“Mr. Jennings,” squirm, “may have thought he was in for,” wiggle, “a bit of erotic asphyxiation. That’s why he didn’t struggle. John? Are you listening?” He sat back and the pressure on his cock was immense. Sherlock had to feel this.

“God, Sherlock,” _don’t thrust_ , John thought, “please hold still.”

“It is possible for a woman who barely,” wiggle, “weighed 7 stone to,” squirm, “choke her victim to death.” Wiggle. He continued, “He thought she was going to bring him off, and instead,” squirm, “John, are you listening?”

“No. You are sitting on me and, I’m, well, hard. If you hadn’t noticed.” _Don’t thrust_ , he thought again. He clenched his fists and bit his tongue. All he _could_ hear was his own blood rushing in his ears.

Sherlock soldiered on, “So, Jennings thinks he is in for a blinding orgasm and instead, she killed him.” He ground himself down on John’s hard-on and thrust his own hips a bit. A wicked grin was plastered to his face.

John‘s whole body went rigid and he blushed from shirt collar to hairline. The only part of him that was moving was his penis as it pulsed.

“Oh, God, Sherlock. I asked you not to move.” His eyes were closed in embarrassment. “I’m nearly 40 and I just came in my pants like a 16 year old. And at a crime scene, no less.” He passed a hand over his face. “My new boyfriend just dry humped me at bloody crime scene.”

“I think the proper term is _frottage_ , John. ‘Dry humping’ is rather inelegant, don’t you think?”

John huffed, “I’m laying on the floor at a crime scene, inside the chalk outline of a body with come in my pants, and you are worried about being _inelegant_?”

Sherlock managed to look contrite, but only just. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to John.

“Since when do you carry a handkerchief?” John asked. The truth was beginning to dawn on him.

“Since I wanted to see if I could get my new boyfriend to come in his pants like a teen ager.” Sherlock said and leaned down to kiss the aforementioned boyfriend. He shifted off of John’s lap so he could sit up.

“You are infuriating, you know that?” John was stuffing the hanky down the front of his trousers, but he was smiling. “You could have done that at home.”

“Yes, I could have. You could have a try in the cab on the way home.”  
Sherlock took John’s free hand and pressed it to his crotch. “I seem to have developed my own _situation_. Turnabout is fair play.”

John could not recall a cab ride that he enjoyed more.


End file.
